Heir To Silence. Book 1 The Pact of Blood Series

2.

My brother didn’t let go of my arm until we were halfway down the corridor.

“Are you out of your mind?” he hissed.

“I wanted to see,” I said, breathless but smiling despite myself.

“That room isn’t for you.”

“You keep saying that like it’s supposed to make me less curious.”

He stopped walking and turned to face me. Up close, I could see the tension in his jaw, the restraint in his hands like he was counting to ten instead of shouting.

“You don’t understand what you just did,” he said quietly.

“I understand exactly what I did,” I replied. “I walked into a room you told me not to enter.”

“That man,” he said, lowering his voice. “The one at the end of the table. You don’t look at him like that.”

“I didn’t know I was looking at him any way at all.”

He stared at me. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you don’t know.”

He released my arm and dragged a hand through his hair. “You’re not part of this. Father was very clear.”

“I heard him.”

“And yet you ignored him.”

I shrugged. “I’ve only just arrived. I’m still learning the rules.”

He exhaled sharply. “You don’t get to learn these ones.”

He left me standing there and walked back toward the meeting room, his shoulders tense.

I stayed where I was, my pulse still loud in my ears.

I hadn’t planned it. Not really. I’d felt something pull tight in my chest when I saw him in the hall. Something instinctive and reckless. Like the part of me that had always hated being told no had finally woken up.

I pressed my palm to my stomach and tried to breathe.

Down the corridor, a voice carried.

His voice.

Low. Rough. Italian words spilling into the air like they belonged there.

I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I could feel the weight of it. The way the space seemed to bend around his sound.

Another voice responded, sharper. Defensive.

Then his again. Slower this time. Controlled.

I shouldn’t have been listening.

I didn’t move.

The door opened briefly as someone slipped out, and for half a second I caught a glimpse inside.

Him.

He was standing now, one hand resting on the back of his chair, posture relaxed but coiled. His gaze flicked toward the door, sharp and immediate.

Straight to me.

My breath caught.

He looked at me like he already knew I was still there. Like he’d expected it.

The door shut again.

I stepped back into the shadows, my heart racing.

I didn’t belong in that room. Everyone had made that very clear.

And yet, when I finally went upstairs and closed my bedroom door behind me, all I could think about was the sound of his voice filling a space I wasn’t meant to enter.